Only One Moment
by Kyndeyrn
Summary: The blonde leaned down to kiss him. The elevator hitched, giving Harry the moment. It was in this moment that rationality and sensibility fought spontaneity and the urge to break free within Harry.


Warnings: AU, Slash…sort of

A/N: I was in a very weird mood when I wrote this. Just to clear things up, this story is very AU. Harry is a muggle and always has been and it's pretty much like none of the books ever happened.

**Only One Moment**

Harry Potter was twenty-two and had a generic life. He woke up every morning at precisely 7:07 am and had a cup of Folgers coffee with French vanilla creamer. He took an eight and a half minute long shower, and then got dressed. He always wore black pants, a light blue shirt and a dark blue, almost purple, tie. He was out the door by 7:30. Everyday.

He drove a generic car to work; it was red, blood red. He listened to the radio on the way to work, always the same station, always the same music. He only had to drive a few miles, enough for three songs, sometimes three and a half. He parked in his reserved parking place, walked through the sliding glass doors, got on the elevator, rode up seven stories, and then sat down at his computer. Everyday.

He worked at an employment agency. There were no windows where he worked, just off-white walls, the dieing plant in the corner, his phone and his computer. He brought his lunch and ate it while he worked. There was no need to talk to anyone else. At 7:30 he left the office, drove home, and ate ramen noodles for dinner. He watched Dawson's Creek until 9:00, and then went to bed. Everyday.

Harry Potter woke up at 7:07 on a rainy Tuesday morning in mid April. It was a normal, generic day, just one more day in his life. One day closer until he died. Would anyone notice if he died? Would anyone even care…? As he made his cup of coffee, his hand slipped, far more coffee than normal went into the filter. Harry didn't notice. Harry seldom noticed anything. He drank his coffee, he took his shower, he put on his clothes, and he got in his car as he did everyday. Everyday.

Today, however something was different. There had been an accident, and it was holding back traffic. Harry listened to the radio; a song called "Chasing Cars" was playing. Let's waste time chasing cars. Harry never wasted time. Wait. Yes, he did. His eyes widened ever so slightly as a strange thought came into his head. He did waste time. Everyday. His life in a sense was a waste of time. It was not profound. It was not amazing. It was boring and generic. He did not hate his life, nor did he like it. He just lived it. Everyday.

He arrived late to work due to the accident, a four car pile up. He had never arrived late. He doubted anyone would notice if he did. Because of his tardiness he was not the only one on the elevator today, a blonde man, about his age stepped on next to him.

Floor one.

Their eyes met silver and green, the blonde man stepped closer, Harry ignored him.

Floor two.

The man spoke, "You work here?" He had a nice voice, Harry decided.

"Yes."

"Can you help me?" Yes, he had a very nice voice; it washed over Harry, trying to awake him from this twenty-two year long dream called life.

"With what?" Harry felt himself compelled to answer. He expected the man needed to find a job.

Floor three.

"I'm trying to find something." The fog that seemed to have forever shrouded Harry was lifting, and all due to this blonde-haired man. Harry felt his heart speed up, the man was smiling. If Harry's heart had ever been made for something other than pumping blood this was the time it was showing it.

"What are you looking for?" Harry had never heard his own voice sound so breathless.

"Love."

Floor four.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the man's response. He was almost fully awake. Alive. He turned completely to face the other man, metallic eyes, platinum wavy hair, and heart-shattering smile. Everything. He seemed almost inhuman. They looked at each other, drinking the other's soul through their eyes.

Floor five.

"Why did you come to me?" Harry's question was whispered.

The other man shrugged, "I don't know." Those three words, so uncertain from any normal being, were positive and full of explanation when uttered with that crystal voice. It was as if there was some other meaning behind them saying _I chose you, Harry._ The man took a final step toward Harry and embraced him. It was warm and nice. It was the most wonderful Harry had ever felt.

Floor six.

Harry held the other man close to him. The blonde leaned down to kiss him. The elevator hitched, giving Harry the moment. It was in this moment that rationality and sensibility fought spontaneity and the urge to break free with in Harry. He knew this moment as a fork in the road of life, where as down one path, if he kissed the man, he could be a dreamer, a poet, a lover, and everything else that is wonderful, yet can not survive in this day and age and, down the other path he could continue his mist shrouded existence.

He hesitated one vital moment longer. Destiny had not given him this moment. The elevator started again bringing with it the victory of rationality and sensibility. Harry pushed away from the other man.

Floor seven.

Both men got off, the blonde went to the right and Harry went to the left. They never saw each other again.

The fog had once again engulfed Harry's mind, his life. It did not lift until some time later that day when it struck Harry that he had given up something more valuable than anything he had ever known or would ever know. When fate had given him one moment he had taken two and lost everything. His mind remained open, alive, just long enough for him to weep bitterly as it did so from that day forth. Briefly the cloud would lift and he would realize what he could have had everyday. Everyday. Every single day.

**Fin**


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